


Against All Odds

by FrostWolfGirl



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Gaslighting, POV Original Female Character, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, tw: gaslighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-08 08:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostWolfGirl/pseuds/FrostWolfGirl
Summary: Time works differently in the Upside Down. At least for her. She's seen them come and go, some never leave. There's no reason she should have survived this long, and yet, she's resisted every attempt to bring her into the hive mind.The events pick up immediately following The Battle of Starcourt. Billy Hargrove is pulled into the Upside Down. In a mad dash to free him before he's lost to the hive mind, she learns more about trust and companionship that she ever learned in the lab. Afterall, they had to start somewhere, didn't they?What comes before Eleven?Ten.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. Waking Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been beta read by J.

_ Please, don’t let me be too late… _

It was her mantra the second she found him. He was splayed out in black tar, breathing shallow, body limp. She’d seen this before. If she found him too late he’d already be part of the hive mind. 

On her knees next to him, her small hands gently pulled his face from the tar, wiping it clean. Occasionally, she glanced up as if she were a wild animal, eyes flitting to the right then left. They were way too exposed out here. The flayer’s minions could so easily find her and she had managed to stay just a few steps ahead of them for so long… 

How was she to know it was dead? She’d been here for almost four years, or has it been five? Ten? Time worked differently in the Upside Down….

_ Wake up. Please wake up, boy. _She rolled him onto his back and began to gently tap his cheek, then massage his throat, hoping that he’d gulp in some more air. She was starting to panic. She couldn’t just leave him there! If he hadn’t been pulled into the hive mind, he would be soon. They’d find him and suck him in. 

“Come on,” she whispered. “Please wake up!” She patted his cheek again, a little harder this time.

Suddenly he gasped in a breath, sputtered, and his eyes flew open. She jumped back, her hands up in the air in a silent surrender. 

The boy inhaled several breaths, sitting bolt upright and scrambling back away from her. “The fuck?!” he shouted in terror and rage. “The fuck is this? Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I?” His voice so loud it echoed into the distance. 

“Shhh!” she began to hush him the minute he started shouting. “SHHH-SHHHH!” 

“No, fuck you!” he cried out, trying to get to his feet. He pulled himself up from the ground, the thick tar around him, pulling him back to his knees as he scrambled out of the pit he landed in. 

“Stop shouting, he’ll hear you!” she hissed. 

That seemed to get the boys attention and while he didn’t shout anymore, he did glare down at her. She watched as his hands curled into fists, the terror in his eyes turned to rage. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked in a dark tone. 

She was still holding her hands up in surrender and slowly stood up and took a few steps back from him. In that moment he resembled more a wild animal than she. She wore clothes that didn’t seem to fit her, starting with a shirt that may once have been orange but was more burnt umber with stains that had a drawstring around her neck. There was a circle of ruffles that no longer ruffled was under a blue coat. The coat was too large on her shoulders. Her high waisted jeans hung off her hips rather than fitting her they way they were meant to fit and were rolled up around her ankles. She didn’t have shoes. Her face was thin and it was clear she hadn’t had a real meal in far too long. Hazel eyes, brown hair that hadn’t been brushed was in mats and tangles. She stood just a few inches below him, making her taller than the average woman. 

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but not here,” she bargained, as she walked around the tar pit to close the distance between them. “We’re exposed out here. If we don’t keep moving he’ll hear us.” 

“I’m not fucking going anywhere with you,” he growled. He wiped his face with his bare arm, spitting out more tar from his mouth as he turned away from her. He wore nothing but a white sleeveless, form-fitting top and jeans that clung to his body like an extra skin. She took a moment to regard his face, noting an open wound on his left cheek. 

“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you,” she cautioned. 

“Well, good fucking thing you aren’t me then,” he grumbled, pulling his boot from the muck and finaly finding his footing on mostly solid ground. 

“No, really," she said a bit more confidently. “I wouldn’t…” She reached out to stop him, taking him by the wrist to keep him from walking too far. 

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” he screamed, his body seeming to react before he could stop himself. The moment her hand made contact with his wrist his free hand grabbed her by the throat and flung her to his left into a tree trunk. She hit the tree with a sickening wet sound and she cried out loudly as the wind left her. On instinct he surged toward her, pressing his forearm into her throat to pin her against the tree. His body covered hers, pressing as much of his weight into her as he could. 

“Don’t do this,” she weazed, trying to catch the breath she lost.

He grinned, but it was without humor and the smile never touched his eyes. “Do what, princess?” he taunted. 

“This,” she repeated. “Trust me.” 

“Why?” he hissed. 

She squirmed under him a little bit as if she weren’t able to shove him off but it was just a distraction for her to get her feet in the right place. She hooked her ankle around his, planted her feet and went still, hazel eyes glaring up at him. 

“Last chance,” she warned. His answer came in the form of a sarcastic grin as he licked his bottom lip. She didn’t give him another moment to reply, she had seen all she needed to see. With strength she didn’t look like she possessed she flung her head into his, connecting a blow against his forehead that sent him flailing back enough to trip over her ankle that had been planted behind him strategically. He stumbled backwards, caught off guard by her sudden attack. 

He shook his head as he regained his footing and snarled at her. The next attack was less about defense and more pure rage. He turned off everything but the need to _ hurt _ something as badly as he’d been hurt. She was the closest thing to him at that moment and she was trying to stop him from getting away. It put a target on her back that couldn’t be ignored. 

He ran at her, his shoulders dropped in an attempt the throw her to the ground but one moment before their bodies collided he stopped dead in his tracks, frozen and unable to move. His eyes, however, weren’t frozen and he was able to glance up to see the girl holding her hand out at him with her fingers splayed in a “stop” gesture. Where her eyes had once been hazel, they were black with no color and no white left in them. Just black pits glared back at him. He tried to move his arm but couldn’t. 

“I warned you,” she reminded him, her voice still low. “Don’t go that way, the nest is up there.” She threw her hand down toward the ground, using whatever power it was that she had to toss him to the ground like a rag doll. He landed face down and cried out as his already beaten body took more trauma. He rolled onto his side and screamed out in pain and rage. 

She was on him instantly, planting her hand over his mouth to silence him. “I said stop shouting!” she hissed, pinning him to the ground. Just then, the hairs on her arms stood up. She looked up quickly to her left. “Shit,” she grumbled under her breath. “It heard you.” 

She grabbed his hand and looked down into his bright blue eyes. “Do not stop running until I say.” The boy nodded, fear and terror evident in his eyes. 

It was all she needed. She pulled him from the ground and surged toward the south away from where she indicated the nest was located, tugging him along as she weaved through the trees. If this were the right side, they’d be in the woods outside. She led him through the landscape as if she’d done this a thousand times. Because she has. And she knew he was behind her, his hand was solid in hers hers; footfalls echoed by him on the wet ground. 

In the distance something roared. It wasn’t not close, but it wasn’t far and she picked up her speed. Adrenaline must have kicked in for him too because in a second, he wasn’t behind her but next to her and their hands were clinging to one another between their bodies. 

“Left!” she cried over the din and they veer left instantly. She glanced over her shoulder to see if she could spot the minion that may be following them, but the coast seemed clear. Returning her attention to the front, she ducked her head, dropped her shoulders to charge through what looked like a membrane between organic brush. The center of it seems to be thinner than the rest as if it should break easily when pressure was applied but it wasn’t and it slowed them both down. 

She broke through first and tugged him along with her. His arm came first followed by his head and his torso. He gasped in air and growled as he tried to pry himself from the muck.

“Don’t give up on me,” she encouraged. Suddenly she realized how lucky they both were. He was the first person she’d seen there that was at all close to alive. The others have all been too far gone, trapped or otherwise compromised. “Come on!”

He was strong, and her encouragement spurred him forward. With a scream, he pulled himself through and stumbled into her arms for a moment. She caught him before he fell into the ground this time, her strength once again surprising for the small frame she carried. They paused for a moment, looking at each other as they caught a breath. 

“Almost there,” she said softly. “Come on!” They took hands again and she pulled him forward. In the distance a dilapidated shack came into view. It was nothing to look at from the outside. It was dripping with goop and fluid, it looked like it had been built and rebuilt out of biological material taken from what used to be trees. She reached the door and pried it open.

“Get in,” she said, but he was halfway through the door as she spoke. She followed behind him and slammed the door shut with a solid thump.

Inside was dark for a moment; the only sound was two people catching their breaths. She couldn’t make him out very well, so she focused on bunkering in. She slid a block of wood and a stone in front of the door to keep it from opening inward, then quickly checked that the two windows were covered correctly with a material that once would have been a blanket. Once she was sure they were safe, she came to the center of the shack and found her lantern.

She’d found it in the muck of the labs on the far side of the upside down. She’d been trapped in this place so long she knew what burned and what didn’t. The tar was exactly that: tar. It burned and stank to the heavens, if there were such a place, but she was used to the scent by now. She lit her lantern with two stones and hung it up on a branch in the ceiling.

He sniffed and gagged at the scent. “Jesus…” he spat out “That shit stinks!”

“Would you rather sit in the dark?” she deadpanned.

“Fuck!” he growled covering his mouth and nose. “I can’t breathe!”

“You get used to it,” she shrugged. He gagged again, began to cough. She just looked at him for a moment. He was close to her age, not at all like the young one that showed up once or the girl whose clothes she’d stolen when she needed them no longer—anything was better than the hospital gown. The man in front of her was different. 

“Where the fuck am I?” he finally asked, half glaring at her, half pleading for answers.

“This is life now,” she shrugged again. “It’s…. I’m not sure if it’s a place with a name.”

His hand fell away from his face and she was finally afforded a good look at him. His eyes were sunken like hers only not as drastic, it looked like he too hadn’t had a real meal in weeks. His hair was longer in the back than the front and unlike the hairstyles of the scientists she’d grown up around. She’d never seen anything like it before. It was matted with goop and tar from when he landed here.

“What’s your name?” she asked him.

“Billy,” he answered. “What’s yours?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have one…” she said softly.

“Who the fuck doesn’t have a name?” Billy asked annoyed.

“I don’t,” she said with another shrug. “They used to call me Ten… But I don’t like that name, so I decided it wasn’t my name.”

“Ten?” he breathed, recognition and fear in his voice. “As in the number?”

She nodded. “Exactly. It’s not a name. It’s not _ my _ name.” 

There was a long pause, long enough to feel the tension mounting between them. She was about to ask another question when he finally spoke up. “Do you know Eleven?” 

She glared at him for a moment, as if she was glaring past him and around him. “They made an Eleven?” she asked with anger.


	2. Do As I Tell You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work beta'd by J. 
> 
> TW: The chapter introduces mild gaslighting and mental abuse and manipulation.
> 
> Thank you to all of you for the encouragement and your patience. If you've been following my Vigils fic you know I'm slower than a turtle in a wedding dress, but I will eventually post. I sat on this chapter for a while. It went through several variations. I hope you enjoy it!

What’s a study if there aren’t subjects to study? Every study must start somewhere.

Where she was concerned, she wasn’t the first and she wasn’t the last. She was somewhere toward the end, just close enough to the results they wanted but not quite right in the end. If she were right, she wouldn’t have gotten lost in the first place. She was the imperfect balance of chaos and order. Up until the last moment it seemed she was the most promising.

Looking back, she couldn’t remember where she had been or what she had done before the lab. There must have been a childhood. There must have been a mother and a father. There may have been brothers and sisters. She dreamed of them sometimes, at least she thought she did. The people in her mind felt so real, so solid. But when she woke, she couldn’t remember their names or what they looked like. 

She first realized she wasn’t in the right place on a winter morning. She was just tall enough to stand at the window sill, her chin on the cold stone. There was an animal outside. It was tall and brown with pointy things on its head. She didn’t know what it was called and yet she thought she must have known once. She watched it slowly step its long legs through what looked like a dead world. Her breath made clouds on the window that grew and vanished. 

“It’s called a deer,” he said. She turned suddenly, pressing her small frame against the wall. She felt like she should know him, but she also felt a very real terror. This was not someone she should trust, but he wanted her to believe she was safe. 

“It’s alright,” the man went on. He knelt before her, his hair just beginning to turn grey at the temples. He had a kind smile with a hint of something sinister behind it. “Ten, do you remember who I am?”

She pressed closer to the wall, willing the cinder blocks behind her to soften enough to swallow her. But they were hard and unforgiving. She was trapped like an animal. 

“My name isn’t Ten,” she spoke up. 

“Oh,” he smiled. “Is that so?” He shifted his weight so he could plant himself better before her. He chuckled and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Then what is your name?”

She gulped. Why did this seem so familiar? Had they had this conversation before? What was the feeling of being in a place for the first time but having already lived it? She found she couldn’t answer his question. There _must_ be a name, right? Because Ten didn’t seem like a name at all but something else. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. This seemed to amuse him further.

“You see?” he said gently. “If you had a different name, surely, you’d remember it, wouldn’t you?” 

She whimpered, hiding her face in her small hands. Why couldn’t she remember? She knew she didn’t belong there, she knew she had a mother once, she knew there was a life before that moment… 

“You’ve been dreaming again, haven’t you?” he asked, coming closer. The little girl began to cry. Fat, ugly sobs that shook her whole body. It was that tone of voice that both frightened her and comforted her. She didn’t understand feeling two conflicting emotions at once, but it was happening. “It’s alright, Ten. Come here.”

Before she could protest, she was scooped into his arms. All she could do was cry. She went limp in his arms, a frightened child that wanted comfort and the only place comfort was offered was the very place that was the least comfortable. Without protest she let him scoop her up in his arms and carried her out of the room. 

“We’ll have to put you to sleep again,” he said softly. 

This only made her cry harder. She didn’t understand why, but for some reason this idea frightened her more than the idea of not knowing her name. 

“Don’t cry, Ten. Papa will help you. Soon all these dreams will stop, and we can get to work…” 

***

The boy stared at her for a long moment. The silence was drawn out so long she was getting uncomfortable. Funny how that could be. She’d lived in silence for so long but now that it was a shared silence with a stranger it was suddenly too thick. 

“Where are we?” he asked, and the sound of his voice was so loud it startled her. Her bright hazel eyes jerked up to look at him. In the dim light he almost looked soft. 

“What?” she asked. 

He rolled his eyes and any suggestion of softness was gone instantly. She cocked her head to the side in curiosity. She’d seen this expression before. It was so familiar! It was as if she were looking into a dream. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” he asked, biting off each word with aggression. 

“What is this word?” she asked. “Fucking. What does it mean?”

“Jesus Christ…” he scoffed. He leaned back against the wall with a huff and closed his eyes. 

She blinked and gulped, wrapping her arms around her chest. It was something she did to comfort herself when she felt uneasy. “You say it a lot,” she said after a while, keeping her eyes on the ground. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Fucking,” she repeated. “Or fuck. You say it a lot. I’ve never heard it before.”

“Jesus Christ, how old are you?” Billy asked. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, peeking up at him. 

“You can’t be serious,” he scoffed. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, she was still looking at him with that same child-like innocence. “For fucks sake, are you?”

“Am I what?” she asked quietly. 

“You seriously don’t know how old you are?” he asked. 

She shook her head no. The answer seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. She saw him exhale a deep breath while he looked her up and down.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Nineteen,” Billy answered. 

“Nineteen,” she repeated. “How old do I look?” 

Billy exhaled again and dropped his head into his hands. She couldn’t tell what that meant. She hadn’t been around enough people to learn body language. There had been Papa, a few lab technicians and the woman that came to talk to her when she was old enough to bleed. And foggy memories of a life from the Before. 

There had to be a Before! 

“I think…” she began, slowly thinking back over her memories. “I think… I was nine years old… when I woke up. That was a long time ago…”

“This is un-fucking believable,” the boy groaned. She looked up at him again and saw his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were shut tight. He was frowning. “I’m fucking trapped in a shack with a girl with no name who doesn’t even know how old she is…” 

“I know other things!” she replied. 

“Like what?!” he barked, glaring at her. 

She exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax fully. She gazed at him for a long moment in silence, then closed her eyes and focused on him. She reached out through the space between them to find something that she knew. The last few moments of his life came into clear focus, she watched the whole ugly ordeal play out in a black void. She could see him, the mind flayer, and nothing more. She saw it march toward him, she saw him throw his arms out to stop it, holding it back with a guttural scream. As the tentacles shot through him, she started, her eyes flying open with a gasp. 

“You sacrificed yourself,” she whispered. Billy’s eyes widened.

“What did you just say?” he asked quietly. 

“I saw it,” she whispered. “I saw you. You stopped him. Something made you change your mind.”

“What do you mean you saw it?” he snared, surging forward to grab her shoulders. “What are you talking about?” His big hands gripped her shoulders tightly, pressing his fingers into her thin frame. She could feel the strength in his hand, he seemed so much larger than she. 

The moment he touched her, she went still, her eyes wide with terror. He leaned in closer, his face a few inches from hers. He was snarling at her, heaving heavy breaths of rage. 

“Stop it,” she said softly. 

“What do you mean you saw it?!” he shouted at her, giving her a good shake with each word. 

“STOP IT!” she shouted back, her voice so loud it sent him flying across the small room and slammed him into the wall. He began to throw himself forward but before he could, she threw her hand out in front of her, freezing him where he was instantly. “NO!” she scolded. “No more pushing or grabbing or shaking!” 

“Tell me how you saw it!” he begged her, his voice changing from threatening to almost frightened. 

“Say you won’t grab me again first,” she bargained. 

“Let me go and I won’t grab you anymore,” he counter offered. 

“No!” she disagreed. "You have to promise and mean it!" 

"What are you?" he asked. 

She cocked her head to the side again. "What am I?" 

"You act like my sister Max," he sniped. 

"How old is Max?" She asked curiously. 

"She's 14," he smirked. 

"Do I look 14?" Ten asked softly. She continued to hold him in place, unwilling to give him the chance to attack until he promised. 

"No," he admitted. "You look like you're my age. But you act like a kid." 

"You act like a…" she didn't have the word. "You're not nice. You yell and you shove, and you hurt me." 

"Fine, I'm sorry, okay?" Billy offered. "Now, let me go and I promise I won't grab you again. Deal?" 

*** 

She was staring at the bowl for a long moment. It was just out of reach. Her stomach rumbled. 

“Ten?” Papa asked, drawing her attention from the offered food to him. “Do we have a deal?”

She cocked her head to the side. It was the only movement the bindings afforded her. She was cold, her hospital gown was wet where she’d soiled herself in the night, her throat hurt. But she wanted that bowl! “What’s a deal?” she asked curiously. 

“It means that you give me what I want, in exchange for what you want,” Papa clarified. He pushed the rolling cart a little closer. 

The scent of food wafted toward her. Her mouth watered, she licked her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she was out of that bed or had warm food. 

“You see, I want you to help me open the gate,” Papa went in. “And in exchange for being a good girl and doing as you’re told, I’ll give you this soup.” He picked up the spoon and took a long slurp of the broth, exaggerating it. He hummed in satisfaction, licking his lips. “Chicken noodle. Your favorite, right?” 

She nodded. Anything was her favorite at that moment! She was so hungry. 

“So…” he spoke handing the empty spoon toward her. “Do we have a deal?” 

***

"Deal," she nodded, releasing Billy from her hold. He fell forward the moment he was released. He hit the ground with a flop and a grunt. He sprang up quickly and scrambled back to his place against the wall, feigning indifference as he wiped the dirt off his forearms. 

“What made you change your mind?” she asked softly. The boy remained silent, looking off into a corner away from her. She knit her brows together in concern. “Billy?”

“Shut up!” he snapped, turning on her. “Leave me alone, alright?” 

“Yes,” she nodded. She crept away from the boy, folding herself into a ball on the far side of the shack. Quietly she opened a box that was sunk in the floor, pulling out a few morsels from the last hunt. She quickly ate a bite or two and brought the rest to him. The small bites of meat were wrapped in a leaf. She placed them on a smooth stone by his feet and retreated again. 

Billy looked down at the offering, then back up at her. “The fuck is that shit?” he asked. 

“Food,” she said gently, nodding at it. 

The boy looked back at the morsels a moment longer before accepting them. He plucked one from the leaf and brought it to his nose to smell it. He sniffed and frowned. “Smells terrible,” he grumbled. Without another word he popped it into his mouth and took a bite. With a sound of disgust, he spat it out on the floor. “Ugh! It tastes disgusting. What is it?” 

“I call them dogs,” she said. “But they aren’t real dogs.” 

“You fed me a fake dog?” Billy complained. 

“Do you have any other food in your pockets?” she asked, a slight challenge to her voice. 

The boy looked wilder than before, his eyes widened, and nostrils flared. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You can be angry, or you can eat,” she replied simply. “If you don’t like this, we’ll have to go hunt.” 

***

“Very nice, Ten,” Papa cooed in her ear. He stood just behind and to the right of her, his breath hot on her skin. She felt her stomach turn but she didn’t know why. “Chin up a bit higher.”

She obliged, lifting her chin a bit higher. To her surprise it helped her vantage point. 

“Now, you know what to do,” he whispered. 

She felt him retreat, sinking back into the wilderness outside the labs. For the first time in her memory she was wearing shoes and clothes. There was a chill in the air and her breath came out in little clouds that vanished in seconds. Just in front of her was a deer, the same one she’d seen from the window, just taller now. She’d practiced it a dozen times in the lab with the rats, but suddenly looking at a wild beast (or so she thought) it seemed like a terrible thing. 

The first rat had been white. She’d cried for days after. Papa told her she didn’t do anything wrong, that she’d done everything right. Of course, that didn’t help her broken heart. She knew what she’d done. She’d killed it. And she was being ordered to do it again with a much larger target. 

“Ten?” Papa asked. “Go on…” 

“Will it hurt?” she asked.

“No,” he whispered. “Not if you do it quickly. Go on. Do as I tell you.” 

She swallowed thickly and made up her mind. With a quick turn of her head the deer's neck snapped and the whole animal fell to the ground in a heap. Papa clapped happily behind her, congratulating her and patting her on the shoulders. But it didn’t feel like a victory to her at all. 


End file.
